


Breakin' out

by Hinotori



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blowjobs, Gangbang, M/M, Public Sex, Sorry john, dubcon, handjobs, this is a very horny fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinotori/pseuds/Hinotori
Summary: John fucks up and needs to be rescued. Dutch doesn't appreciate this and decides to get the whole gang to teach him a lesson.





	Breakin' out

John realises he’s in deep shit the moment he hears the door to the Valentine jail open and the ring of Hosea’s voice reaches his ears. Normally, getting busted out  is a reason to celebrate, even if he’s absolutely going to get berated for having gotten caught in the first place. Still, he prefers being the outlet for Dutch’s annoyance for a few days than being incarcerated or hung.

 

Now, though, he wishes he’d been shot dead rather than captured.

 

After three days, he’d gotten tired of waiting for someone to come get him. Figuring he’s shit at picking locks and talking his way out of things, John had decided to utilise a different method. One he’d read about Hosea and Dutch using on some poor officer once, and that required something he _was_ good at. It’d felt wrong for a moment, given Abigail ‘n Jack ‘n whatever semblance of pride he had left, but it had been three days and he needed to get out. So he’d cleared his throat to get the guard’s attention and leaned as seductively as he could manage on the bars of the cell. It’d been awkward, what with the cuffs binding his wrists and the chain connecting his feet, and with him being John Marston, but he’d managed it all the same.

 

“Hey, mister, how’s about we cut a deal?” He’d tried saying it in his best Dutch voice, hoping that would score him some points. The guard - Anderson - had laughed at him. Of course. Had said something about not cuttin’ deals with crooks or some such. But then John had (awkwardly and too directly) told him that “Look, buddy, I’ll suck you off if you let me outta here and ain’t nobody’s gotta know”, and Anderson had laughed again, but he’d stood up and walked closer regardless.

 

And soon enough he’d been holding John by the chin through the bars, pulling him uncomfortably against the metal and squeezing too tightly, squinting at him and evaluating him. It’d made John’s skin crawl, but he’d held it together. Anderson’s eyes had been dark with both disgust and something akin to desire, and he’d spat on John’s face after turning it this way and that a few times. His breath had smelled like cheap bourbon and cigarettes and something sour, but it hadn’t mattered because this either meant John will be killed on the spot for being a queer (something he hadn’t considered at all before suggesting to offer his services), or he’d get what he wanted.

 

Anderson, thankfully, hadn’t been above getting his dick sucked by some filthy, scarred, no-good law-breaker and soon enough John had been on his knees getting face fucked and being called by some woman’s name, the guard’s boot pressing down on his groin. The exact moment Hosea had walked in, John had been displaying his lack of a gag reflex, Anderson’s hand roughly tugging his hair with a moan entwined with calling John a bitch.

 

That had been when he’d realised he’s in deep shit.

 

When the door opens and Hosea chimes his ‘hello!’, Anderson pulls sharply backwards in a panic, fumbling to tuck himself back in his trousers and straighten his shirt all at the same time while spewing curses. John, meanwhile, is frozen on the spot, eyes cast downwards and ears burning. He can feel Hosea’s eyes on him, as well as the drool trickling down his own chin, and he briefly wonders if he’d die if he bashes his head against the bars hard enough.

 

“What’s all this, then..?” Hosea asks all too casually and takes a few steps closer, closing the door carefully behind himself. “Officer, I was led to believe could trust the law to not exploit my dear nephew over there.”

 

“Sir, this isn’t- the little bastard forced me-“ Anderson is desperately trying to think of an excuse _, any_ excuse, as to why his cock is out while the only present inmate’s mouth is glistening and wet, but there isn’t one. Hosea seems to know this, too, even if John is too worried to look up and confirm with his eyes what he’s already sure of in his mind. If he’s figured it out, then Hosea’s probably known it since he’d walked in.

 

“I believe I know exactly what this is, young man. You’ll swing for this if the sheriff finds out.” Anderson tries to get some words out, but Hosea cuts him off, calm as ever. “50 dollars and my nephew’s freedom, and I shan’t say a word.” The guard must’ve not looked pleased with these terms “Unless, of course, you’d rather I get the sheriff right now..? I saw him dealing with some ruffians at the saloon not five minutes ago.”

 

Before he knows it, John’s shackles are coming off and he’s being pulled up by the arm by a gentle hand and his gun belt and hat are being shoved at him roughly. “Come, Jimmy, we should get out of here. Thank you for your kind cooperation, sir!”

 

John walks beside Hosea in silence after this, even as they both get on Silver Dollar and he has to awkwardly hold the older man by the waist. He shifts a bit backward so they’re not pressing together too closely; he hates to admit it, but the entire situation in the prison cell has gotten him more than a little worked up and there’s embarrassing evidence of that sitting between his legs. He keeps telling himself it’s because he and Abigail had not been intimate since he can’t remember when, and it’s enough to calm his mind for the time being. But then Hosea speaks and snuffs that out.

 

“That was mighty stupid, John.” Hosea finally says once they’re out of the town. For once, John has a comeback, one he’s been trying to come up with since the other man had first walked in on the scene.

 

“It ain’t no secret you and Dutch did the same. Made the papers, too!” Hosea chuckles and John’s face turns red, though he has no idea why.

 

“Is that so? Well, we only promised the man we would, we never really got as busy as you.”

 

“Oh,” is all John manages to say, looking to the side as if Hosea’s looking at him and not the road.

 

“You think Dutch’ll be mad?”

 

“I hope not, but you never know, these days.”

 

John is definitely in deep shit.

 

 

The ride back to camp is uneventful, and he’s scared to ask Hosea any more questions, so they just stay silent. He’d prefer it that way if he didn’t desperately need a distraction from how aroused he still is. He hadn’t _enjoyed_   sucking Anderson’s cock, but it had been so _long_ and Abigail’s indifference towards his needs was not helping his attempts to stay loyal to her. Moreover, and for reasons he refuses to explore, the threat of Dutch’s wrath is sitting low in his belly, kindling the fire that’s already making his guts twist.He’s just hoping Hosea doesn’t notice (if he hasn’t already) and that it’ll go away by the time they get back to Horseshoe Overlook and the others have a chance to notice as well.

 

Despite his promises eternal worship and devotion to God, his wish is not granted and he is still hard when he awkwardly scrambles off of Silver Dollar.

 

“Oh good,” Dutch’s voice roots him to the spot - his tone and face are unreadable, but John has known him long enough to know his ‘You fucked up’ lazy but deliberate stride.  “you brought him back.”

 

“Hello, Dutch.” Hosea answers, unfazed. “He’s fine, just ran into a little bit of trouble with a lawman in Valentine.”

 

“So I heard.” Dutch steps closer now, and John notices that the girls are peering at him, whispering among themselves. He suddenly realises Abigail will be furious with him and wants to turn tail and run back to the safety and simplicity of the cell in Valentine. She’s nowhere to be seen at the moment, but he doubts his luck will remain for too long.

 

Hosea and Dutch exchange a look, then, and John has no idea what it means but he hasn’t got the time to figure it out, either, because Hosea sighs and answers the unasked question.

 

“He hasn’t told them anything, Dutch. Hell, why would they even ask - he was brought in for disturbing the peace. His jailor seemed to take the crime too seriously.” Dutch looks John up and down, squints and gestures with his hand, cigar between his fingers, for Hosea to elaborate. John wishes as hard as he can that Hosea will lie. That he wouldn’t have brought it up at all. “He’d…he was using John for his own…pleasure, when I found him.”

 

John’s blood boils at that - equal parts shame and anger - and he clenches his fists.

 

“Hey! He wasn’t usin’ me, I was usin’ _him_ to get out!”

 

Stupid.

 

So fucking stupid. Why would he say that?

 

Dutch’s eyebrows shoot up and he scoffs, smoke coming out of his nostrils. John hears Karen laugh from somewhere to his right. Hosea pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, shoulders slumping. He thinks he sees Arthur coming closer with his peripheral vision but he refuses to check.

 

John wonders if Dutch is going to yell at him. Wonders if he’ll slap him or just brood about his damaged reputation or some such, even though nobody in Valentine who he or John or any of them were. What he doesn’t expect is for Dutch to laugh.

 

“I see.” The merit in his voice makes John mistakenly think he’s off the hook until  Dutch’s eyes fall on his and the look in them is terrifying. “Miss Grimshaw?” he barks and Susan seems to appear out of thin air by his side. “Would you be so kind as to take the women to assist Abigail and Mary Beth with washing up down by the lake? I think you all need to stretch your legs a little, and young Jack could use the company.”

 

“Of course.” She nods, sensing it’s best to not ask questions. John desperately wants her to ask questions on his behalf, but he also doesn’t want to hear the answers Dutch will give. “Take Uncle with you. Not good to have a group of women left unprotected.” And just like that she’s gone, dragging Molly by the wrist towards the rest of the girls and ushering them to get up.

 

Next thing he knows, Arthur’s by Dutch’s side, asking what all the commotion is about.

 

“Seems like John can’t even stay put and await rescue without messing it up.” Dutch explains, taking another drag from his cigar and putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. All of it makes John’s blood boil - he can’t tell if it’s anger or shame or some sort of jealousy he was sure he’d long since gotten over - and he goes to speak, but is cut short by Hosea’s hands on his own shoulders.

 

“It really isn’t that big a deal, Dutch, surely we can let it go.”

 

But Dutch’s eyes are moving up from John’s crotch up to Hosea’s eyes and _fuck oh fuck he forgot to hide it fucking idiot_ Hosea’s stepping back, shaking his head, hands raised up in surrender. “I want no part in this. I hope you'll come to your senses before doing something stupid.”

 

John turns his head around, wants to say something but doesn't know what. He doesn't know _anything_ , currently - why Dutch is being like this, why Hosea up and left with Lenny, why Arthur's whispering something to Dutch while they both stare him down. He’s not sure if he should be worried, but something in the way Arthur immediately turns away when their eyes meet makes sweat break out in the back of John’s neck.

 

"Hey now, fellers, what's all this about?" he finally gathers the courage to ask, and he takes a step back without even realizing it. "Y'all are actin' real weird like."

 

"I ain't doin' it, Dutch." Arthur says instead of answering him and prods a finger at Dutch's chest, right where his shirt is unbuttoned "And if you've got anythin' even _resemblin'_ decency left in ya, you wouldn't go through with it neither!" Arthur walks off after Dutch scoffs, but he doesn't go far. John can see him even after he sits on his cot, trying to occupy himself with something or other. But he glances up as he picks up his journal, and John feels like Arthur will be watching over him during whatever's going to come next.  
  
"What's goin' on, boss man? By the way the little guy's lookin' at ya I'd think yer about to give 'im a pounding!" Sean laughs as he drunkenly stumbles over. Javier's not far behind, more sober than Sean at first glance but not less curious about the situation.

 

"How right you are, mr.McGuire. Though not necessarily in the way might expect. Everyone!" Dutch's voice booms across the camp and draws the attention of the rest of the men - Micah stirs awake at his spot next to the scout fire, Bill cusses as he stabs himself in the finger while attempting to hone, his five finger fillet skills, and Charles looks up from the piece of wood he's been welding. "Young John here has been returned to us. Now, you may think this is reason for celebration, but he stirred up so much trouble for mr.Matthews and put both of them at risk. So now I am in need of your assistance to, ah…teach him a lesson."

 

John's stomach clenches at this. He has no idea what Dutch has planned, but he's been 'taught a lesson' before and it ain't never felt like this.

 

"What'cha have in mind, boss?" Micah's grinning, leaning on Dutch's shoulder like he has any kind of _right_ to, and Bill's lumbering his way over as well, drunk as ever but seemingly amused. Charles hasn't moved from his spot yet and he's squinting at them, no doubt trying to figure out what the Hell kind of weirdos he's _actually_   fallen in with.

 

"Well, mr.Bell, John seems to have been all too eager to _please_ the sheriff. I believe the punishment should fit the crime."

 

John has all but forgotten about how uncomfortably aroused he had been before, but the realization of what Dutch was implying hits him in the slightly softened cock before it reaches his brain, making it throb in his pants. Micah's barking laugh snaps him out of trying to process if this is for real and why he's aroused by it.

 

"So you want us to just, what, have our way with him?" Javier asks. He sounds a bit taken aback but there's a glint in his eyes that makes John swallow thickly.

 

"Don't I…don't I get a say in this, fellers? I mean, it ain't…I didn't do nothin' _that_ wrong, did I?" He doesn't know when Bill got behind him, but he can suddenly smell his breath and feel his strong hands on his shoulders.

 

"Ain't no criminal got a say in his punishment, _Marston."_  Suddenly, his knees are hitting the mud and he's looking up at Dutch and the rest and his cock is betraying him by actually enjoying this.

 

"Hey now!" John tries to get up, but Bill's grip is firm and he can't fight him off. Panic settles in, accompanied familiar claustrophobia and powerlessness.

 

Dutch has fallen back, still smoking, looking down at the scene. He seems calm and detached, as if he hasn't just ordered his underlings to fuck his son. John glances towards Arthur's tent but the man's back is turned and he knows he's not getting any help from him. It upsets him, makes him feel a bit betrayed, even, but he has no time to dwell on that.

 

"Well, don't mind if I do. Been itchin' for someone to polish the ol' knob, if ya catch my meanin'." Sean's uncomfortably close to him, hands eagerly undoing the laces of his pants. John struggles a bit, tries to push Bill off, but he knows it ultimately doesn't matter if he succeeds. Dutch has decided this and it's going to happen. If he _does_ fight them off, what then? He has nowhere to go. So best at least make it easier on himself. Maybe they're just trying to freak him out and they'll just let him go. If he complies. "Open up, Marston." Sean urges him, impatient, his cockhead pressing against John's lips. John grunts but opens up hesitantly, scrunching his nose up at the taste. The sheriff had at least been _cleaner._

 

Sean sighs and puts an encouraging hand on John's head. His cock slides in easily and doesn't quite fill John's mouth and he can't help but snicker around it.

 

"Hey! What're ya gigglin' down there for? Get to suckin' already!" When he looks up, Sean's face is red and more embarrassed than angry. But even Sean thrusts his hips forward and John's nose hits his pelvis it's really not a _challenge._ John closes his eyes and sucks, hands on his own thighs for balance. "Ooh, that's good."

 

"Enjoying it, amigo? He doesn't seem to be struggling much." Javier has one arm draped around Sean's shoulders and is staring hungrily down at John, lips barely curled up at the edges. Sean grunts and shoves at Javier weakly, but he's a bit too lost in getting some attention for the first time in who knows how long to do much more. Both of Sean’s  hands are in John's hair, clumsily trying to get him to bob his head. John triesare in John’s hair now, tugging and squeezing, unsuccessfully trying to both get him to go faster and stay still so he can fuck his mouth. There’s no shortage of cusses and gibberish about how his da taught him the best way to utilize any hole from Sean. John is rather glad he can hardly understand him.

 

“Ain’t noone wants to hear about yer goddamn _da_!” Bill growls from behind him. He has a firm grip on John’s right thigh and his chest is pressed against John’s back, solid and hot and sweaty, deep breaths making their sweat mingle through his shirt. He can feel Bill’s cock, too, hard and pressing against his ass. It's embarrassing thinking about Bill being turned on by this, by _him,_ but it makes him swell with pride even if he's never _ever_ going to address it.

 

“Piss off, Williamson! And _you_!” Sean pulls John’s hair, angling his head up a bit.  “Put….put some more effort into it, will ya? I ain’t never had to work so hard to get off in my entire life!”

 

“Oh, I bet you haven’t.” Javier teases, but Sean has no time to react - John’s pissed off now, about being treated like this is somehow _expected_ of him and not just some weird whim Dutch has. He growls his displeasure, not caring about sounding like a feral animal or the teasing this will earn him (as if this whole situation isn’t reason enough to be teased), and takes the entirety of Sean’s cock, flattening his tongue against it. It doesn’t quite hit the back of his throat, but it apparently doesn’t matter, as Sean moans in surprise and doubles over, coming hard and thick in John’s mouth. He has no choice but to swallow lest he chokes on it, so swallow he does, eyes closed and chest heaving.

 

“Shit…” Bill mumbles low and quiet somewhere next to his ear, the hand on his thigh squeezing tighter. It's crept higher, closer to where his pants crease near his groin, and John moans quietly at the realization, his cock straining against his pants.

 

"Whoa, that was _fast_!" Javier's laughing as he says this, and John opens his eyes just in time to see Sean smack him roughly on the shoulder.

 

"So what? I ain't got all day to waste on…on this!"

 

"Sure." Javier's still trying to calm his laughter when Sean _finally_ pulls his dick out and fumbles to tuck it back in, but his eyes don't leave John's glistening lips. "You gonna go next, big guy?" he purrs and nods at Bill who hasn't yet moved to get up.

 

"Uh, I…" There's something unsaid passing between them, John can tell, even if he's too socially inept to tell _what_ it is. Javier licks his lips, smirks, lets out a sigh of fake surrender.

 

"If you're sure you won't mind using a hole a _greaser_ 's used…"

 

"Uh…Uhuh." is all Bill manages to say as both him and John watch Javier deftly open the fly of his jeans, long fingers gracefully handling his cock. It's thicker than Sean's though not longer, and John swallows eagerly just as he hears Bill do the same.

 

"Open up for me, guapo." He has no idea what Javier called him just now but finds he doesn't really care, manages only to wet his lips before doing as he was asked. Bill's grip on his thigh is bruising, his chest pressing even closer to John's back, breath tickling his ear. Javier hums his approval as his hand strokes John's hair, carefully tucks it behind his ear. The gesture is almost gentle, almost enough to make John forget he’s not supposed to be enjoying this. He _would_ be enjoying this if it wasn't for Bill slowly rutting against his ass, though even that is bordering on good with Javier's skilled fingers pulling on his hair just right. John moans low in his throat and reaches up to grab on to Javier's thigh with one hand, giving himself more stability as he starts sucking his cock in earnest. "Well aren't _you_ eager to please!" Javier's voice pours over him like honey, makes him feel like he’s drowning in it, thick and hot and sticky. But it’s also sweet and and he wants as much of it as he can get, so he puts his tongue to work like he hasn’t in years.

 

“Yeah, that’s it…” Bill’s voice is barely above a husky whisper. John can smell his sweat and it somehow adds to the sensation of drowning in Javier’s musk, like their scents belong together. Bill isn’t holding his thigh anymore, one hand now tangled in John's hair. He’s holding his own cock in the other, stroking himself in rhythm with the encouraging pushes he's giving John’s head to get him to bob his head. The tip of his cock is brushing against John’s ass, reminding him of his own erection still trapped in his jeans and making him feel more than a little uneasy at the implications. He can feel Javier’s eyes on him, opens his own just to see the other man squint as he hollows out his cheeks and takes him in just a little deeper. Javier exhales noisily  at that and Bill’s breath hitches.

 

“Hey Dutch,” The sound of Javier’s voice at its usual volume snaps John to attention. “How far exactly can we take this?” Dutch sounds amused when he chuckles from somewhere out of sight.

 

“Oh I think he’s far from having learned his lesson.” There’s a pause, just long enough to make John feel a bit self conscious standing on his knees with a dick in his mouth in the middle of camp, then the sound of steps, and suddenly Dutch’s eyes are boring into him from behind Javier. “ _Teach him.”_ He simply says, ringed fingers gripping Javier’s shoulder. Micah’s by his side, grinning as he lets his chin rest on the crook of Dutch’s neck.

 

“Sure thing, jefe.” He trails a hand over John’s jaw, forces him to look up. “C’mere, Bill. I wanna get this point across.” Bill takes a while to react, as if he never wants to stop looking up at Dutch and Javier from this angle. When he does finally get up Javier calls him over with the same hand gesture he uses to call over stray dogs that seem too hesitant to approach him. Bill scrambles over, still stroking himself, and looks expectantly at the others, awaiting instructions. John rolls his eyes at the drop of the tough guy façade; he wishes they'd just get on with it - his knees and jaw are starting to ache uncomfortably. “Let’s see how wide he can open that mouth.”

 

“Huh?” Bill sounds as dumbfounded as John feels - it’s not like Bill’s any bigger, he won’t have to open that wide for him.

 

“Like this, stupid.” Javier’s fingers close over Bill’s own, helping him guide his cock until the head is rubbing against the stitches on John’s cheek, smearing precome over them and sliding down to the corner of his mouth. Javier leans in to whisper into Bill’s ear. “Slide it in next to mine. We’ll see how much he can take.” John makes an angry sound of protest, hopes it sounds at least a little bit intimidating even when it's so muffled. He's not some common whore, how do they expect him to do something like this? His panic makes him look at Arthur's tent again, hoping he'll come save his ass again even if he hates the thought of needing rescuing in the first place. To his surprise, Arthur's looking at him, too; just over his shoulder, his back still mostly turned, but he's _looking_ and it's reassuring and humiliating and infuriating all at the same time. But he knows Arthur would never let this go farther than it should (he chooses not to dwell on whether it should be happening in the first place).

 

So he opens a tad wider. The stitches on his lips pull taut and he groans in discomfort, but he doesn't want them all to think he's weak, so he doesn't stop until Bill's cock slips inside his mouth.

 

"Well would you look at that…" Dutch sounds impressed. Dutch _never_ sounds impressed with him anymore and the praise makes him dizzy.

 

"Huh. Guess the brat's good for something after all." Micah's comment would've pissed him off under different circumstances, _should_ piss him off even now, _especially_ now, but he can't find it in himself to be pissed . He hasn't gotten laid in too long and the questionable morality of this particular situation doesn't matter to him any more. Hell, he'd suck Micah's dick too right now if it meant Dutch telling him he's doing a good job as he gets off.

 

"C'mon, then." Javier seems to finally realize that John has no idea how to handle two at the same time and decides to help by moving his hips. "You do it, too, Bill." John can feel them both, sliding inside his mouth, making him gag. He has no room to move his tongue but apparently he doesn't need to; Bill and Javier have no issues falling into a rhythm fucking in and out of his mouth, each keeping his head steady with one hand. Bill's grunting with each clumsy thrust, sweat from his forehead dripping onto John's face, his belt clanking around his knees. John wants to grab onto it to stop the irritating noise, but also to occupy his hands with something besides his own erection and the subtle flexing of Javier's thigh under his fingers. His jaw aches and he can feel drool pooling up at the corners of his mouth and leaking down his chin. Javier says something John can’t hear and wipes away the spit with his thumb, rests his fingers under John’s chin to keep his face tilted upwards.

 

While Javier’s slow thrusts are fluid and consistent, Bill’s are more shallow and erratic. He’s holding the base of his cock, angling it just so it presses against the inside of his cheek. It increases the pressure on his wounds, makes them stretch open and sting like a bitch, but that only adds to his arousal. He hates this, bates that he’s enjoying it, wishes he was drunk so he wouldn’t have to _think_ about it. But he’d be lying to himself if he claimed he’d never thought about the other men in the gang. He’s entertained fantasies like this since he was a teenager, since he let himself trust other men again - about charismatic, possessive Dutch getting him to sit in his lap, about handsome, rowdy Javier who can kill him with his bare hands before John even reached for his gun sitting in _his_ lap, about quiet, unpredictable Charles’ strong hands on his hips. He’s even thought about drunk, sloppy kisses with Bill just to feel their chests pressed together. And, perhaps worst of all, fantasies about _Arthur_ \- his jaw, his hands, his bicep flexing under John’s fingers, worshipping his cock in this exact position…

 

He’s not _into_ men, though.

 

It’s not his fault the gang had been _mostly_ men at some point, or that he bonded easier with them than with any of the women. He’d liked sleeping with Abigail and maybe he wouldn’t fantasize about anyone else at all if she’d just let him into her bed again. He’s not excited about sleeping with her, either, but at least it would be a step up from his own hand and weird ideas.

 

“You boys still having fun with ‘m?” Sean’s back, leaning his entire weight on his hands on John’s shoulders. “Thought you’d’ve moved on by now!” Javier chuckles, but Bill answers before he has any chance to.

 

“Fuck off, I ain’t gonna be able to finish lookin’ at _your_ ugly mug!” He shoves Sean back and the irishman laughs. The rough motion makes Bill’s cock slide deeper and John whines as he feels a stitch rip open.

 

“Easy, now.” Dutch warns. “This is about teaching John a lesson in a civilized manner, not acting like animals.”

 

“G…got it, boss.” Bill manages to pant out. Apparently Dutch’s voice has the same effect on him that it has on John, though he’s not sure if that’s a relief or not.

 

“You two fags gonna keep rubbing your cocks together or are ya gonna make him eat something already? Some of us have things to do.” Micah sounds a bit breathless despite his best efforts to appear annoyed. John chances a glance at him just to see Dutch’s hand on the back of his neck, running slow circles at the base of his skull with his thumb. Dutch himself is still leaning on Javier’s shoulder, looking down at the scene, as if they’ve just sat down for dinner instead of…this. John’s face burns hot down to his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re itching for a turn.” Javier’s remark earns him an offended scoff from Micah and a low chuckle from Dutch.

 

“Maybe he is.” John sees how Dutch tugs on Micah’s neckerchief, his eyes never leaving John’s own, as if he realizes exactly how  much he would hate this.  “Go on, then.” Micah visibly stiffens.

 

“Boss, you can’t…be serious?”

 

“Well you ain’t _getting’_ a turn until I’m done!” Bill grunts and starts moving again, faster this time, evidently sick of talking. This gets Javier’s attention as well and he gasps, hips stuttering. John’s ears start buzzing and he can’t make out what Dutch and Micah are saying, but he decides it doesn’t matter, because this is good. So good, in fact, he finally goes to palm his own cock through his jeans. He moans, can’t really do much else with his mouth besides let his jaw go slack, feels both of them throb. There are tears obscuring his vision and drool dribbling down his chin, he must look a complete mess, but this- this is simple, simpler than Abigail and Jack and even all the gang’s planning and robbing. He fancies himself a simple man who enjoys simple things, and it doesn’t get any simpler than sex, even between men. Or especially between men.

 

Javier pulls out of his mouth suddenly, one hand tangled in John’s hair while the other goes to stroke his own cock slowly. It’s leaking, precome oozing down from the tip and onto John’s thighs. Bill takes the opportunity and grabs John’s face in both hands, pulling him away from Javier and putting his entire weight behind his last few thrusts, coming loudly and fully down his throat, John’s nose buried in his thick pubic hair. Just as he manages to swallow some of it, he feels something hot splatter across his cheek. He knows it’s Javier’s, more of it hitting the edge of his mouth, mixing with whatever bits of Bill’s seed have spilled out around his cock. He wants to taste it, taste the difference between them, but he can’t with Bill still holding him tight and occupying his mouth.

 

“That…that was a treat, Marston.” Bill’s voice is shaky, so low and husky and it makes John shudder. Javier whistles mockingly as Bill pulls out, cum spilling out of John’s mouth.

 

“Shit, how long has it _been,_ gallo?” He laughs and Bill glares at him, but there’s surprisingly little heat behind it. John coughs and wipes at his mouth, staining his sleeve with dirt and cum. He hesitantly runs a hand over his cheek where one of his wounds is stretched open again and feels for the stitches. One bit has come undone, but it’s nothing too bad - he’ll heal ugly anyway. He’s still struggling to catch his breath as Bill pulls up his pants and Javier wipes the head of his cock with his handkerchief. ”Y’know, pearls really suit you, John.” He says it casually, as if it’s not the most embarrassing thing John has ever heard about himself. Even more so after he realizes what Javier means by ‘pearls’.

 

“Now, boys…” Dutch snaps them all out of the post-orgasmic haze. “Need I remind you you’re supposed to be teaching him a lesson, not praising him. He was eager to display his skills to a man of the law, and he’s evidently eager to display them to you. Perhaps we need to do a little more to drive the message home.”

 

“A…a little more? C’mon Dutch, I’ve…I’ve learned my lesson, okay? I ain’t gonna go doin’ that for no lawmen no more.” Javier and Bill are exchanging looks, neither daring to question Dutch directly but both visibly concerned about how far this is going to go.

 

“By the look of it, son, you’ve yet to learn a single thing today.” Dutch gives Javier a pat on the back, the closest he comes to ‘a job well done’ nowadays. “Mr.Bell. Relieve mr.Marston of his trousers.” Seeing the horror on Micah’s face is almost worth everything he’s feeling right now. Looks are exchanged between the four standing men, but their leader is unrelenting. So Micah takes a step towards John while licking his lips.

 

“I’ll do it.” Javier steps in-between them. “Unless you mind, Dutch?” All he gets in response is a shrug. Which is good, all things considered - perhaps Dutch is oblivious to how much John _does not_ want Micah’s hands on him. Javier kneels in front of him and deftly slips his belt out of the loops, then pops the button and tugs down the pants. John knows he needs to sit up to get them down far enough, but his body isn’t complying. “John…” Javier starts, but Sean is suddenly grabbing him from behind, lifting him up.

 

“C’mon, big John, gotta cooperate a little!” The irishman is laughing and smells of cheap whiskey more than he did earlier.

 

“Heh, you excited about this now?” Bill taunts him, though he doesn’t sound all that confident.

 

“Not more than you are!”

 

And just like that his pants are down at his knees. He looks up and is faced with Micah’s groin. He’s evidently hard. He also seems to realize John is aware of this, as he takes a sudden step back. Not a moment later, however, he’s grabbing John by the arm and hauling him to his feet. His pants slide all the way down around his ankles, gun-belts  clanking loudly on the ground.

 

“Well look who’s an adventurous little boy.” Dutch laughs. “Thought you’d be wearing _something_ under those pants. Seems like I don’t know my own sons.” There’s something dark in his voice, but he has no time or desire to dwell on it while standing there with his cock out and leaking in the middle of his gang mates.

 

“Okay, we’ve all had a good laugh, can we maybe…stop now?” He tries again but Dutch holds up a finger and John reflexively shuts up.

 

“Don’t make me gag you, boy. There’s better uses for you mouth, as you’ve already generously showed us.”

 

Sean’s in the middle of grabbing John’s ass when Arthur suddenly looms behind Micah.

 

“The Hell is this, Dutch? Since when do we do this to anyone, let alone our own?” He sounds furious, fists clenched at his side,

 

“Ah, Arthur! Finally decided to join us I see. And just on time, too.” Dutch isn’t even looking at Arthur. His eyes are focused on John, who’s squirming in the grip Sean has on him under his arms. His eyes dart to Micah for a moment, and he looks disappointed and angry as they do. “Seeing as mr.Bell has been…reluctant to play his role in the lesson being taught, I’d like you do it for him.”

 

“Oh like Hell I’m getting involved in this! C’mon John-“ Dutch stops Arthur dead in his tracks with a hand on his upper arm. Arthur could pull away easily, the other man isn’t even squeezing, but he doesn’t, he just keeps standing still and staring at John.

 

“Now, listen to me very carefully.” Dutch steps a bit closer, leans in towards Arthur and seems to tower over him even if he’s shorter. “This is happening whether you take part in it or not. The only question is,” he turns slightly to the side, gestures towards John and the rest “if you make it easier for your companions here or choose to hide in your tent.”

 

Arthur considers this for a long moment, eyes locked on Dutch’s own, but he relents in the end. He always does. He shrugs his arm away from the other’s grip with a loud ‘bah’ and shoulders his way past Micah, closing the distance to the center of the circle they’ve all formed. The sun burns hot behind Arthur and the glow makes him seem almost ethereal.

 

“Sorry, brother.” It sounds like a genuine apology but John really doesn’t want it to be. Not when Arthur’s grabbing him and tearing him away from Sean as if the other man wasn’t even there. Not when Arthur’s dragging him as he trips over his own pants to the nearest table and pushing him on it, his back hitting the wood hard even through his shirt and jacket. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?” John nods, swallows, and Arthur’s suddenly kneeling between his legs.

 

“Whoa!” He can hear Dutch yelling, but Arthur’s hands are already on his thighs, lifting his legs. “This is a p _unishment!”_

 

“Yeah, well, you’re just teachin’ him a lesson. What happened to not actin’ like animals?.” A pause. “Unless we’re no different from them O’driscoll boys, now?” The challenge is clear and Dutch growls out a ‘fine’. And suddenly Arthur’s mouth is between his legs, tongue licking over his entrance, and John moans loud despite himself. He grabs his own legs under the knees to keep them steady, terrified of where this is headed but painfully hard despite himself, because this is Arthur, and Arthur may be pissed at him and think he’s an idiot but he’s never going to let him get hurt, even if that was Dutch’s bidding.

 

His head is spinning and he can’t see much even when he opens his eyes, but he feels the others standing around him again, looking at him writhe on the table like a whore with Arthur’s tongue in his ass.

 

“Shit, Marston, that suits you.” Bill says and by the way his breath hitches John can tell he’s aroused, stroking his cock in an attempt to get it hard again.

 

“Could almost mistake you for a girl if it weren’t for that pecker you got swingin’ round.” Micah is trying to sound as condescending as always, but John can’t forget what he saw - this disgusting, horrible man that would kill another for something like this hard in his pants because of the way John looks with cum on his face. It gives him an odd sense of satisfaction, of _leverage,_ and he doesn’t bother stifling his next moan just to spite him, and to spite Dutch. He feels hands on his face and is relieved to see they’re Javier’s. Two fingers stroke the oozing wound on his cheek and Javier makes a soothing sound when John whines. Everyone else has gone quiet, and his senses feel overloaded by the heat of the sun and Arthur’s surprisingly skilled mouth on his ass. It’s almost too much, all their eyes on him and he doesn’t know if he’s more distressed by the idea of them seeing him come all over himself without even being touched or by having to talk to them ever again after, but both make him want to die on the spot. He’s very close to it, he thinks.

 

Even if the air is hot and completely still in the midday haze, John still feels a chill when Arthur pulls away. It makes him realize exactly how hot and wet his mouth is and he misses it immediately. He’s still dazed and panting, can’t focus on much besides Javier’s thumbs running over his lips, the stitches, his jawline. Arthur’s voice is distant and his words incomprehensible, and so is Bill’s stuttering, but they seem to understand each other well enough. An item changes hands and then Arthur is snapping his fingers in front of John’s face to get his attention.

 

“…okay, John?” He nods, not caring what he’s agreeing to.

 

Now, as any young outlaw, John has had his fair share of sexual adventures. He’s gotten drunk and bedded many women, be it to celebrate a job well done or to wind down from a failed one. He’s also had the odd experience with another man when no women had been readily available, usually just fumbling with each other’s cocks and giggling about it. He’d had a dick in his mouth on several occasions as well, but more often than not he’d just been the big bad outlaw getting pleasured by men and women alike. So he likes to think he's experienced, knows the workings of things and how things feel. But no amount of fantasizing or experimenting with his own hands could have prepared him for Arthur's slicked up finger sliding inside him.

 

John yelps, trying to pull away, more embarrassed than anything. He doesn't get far, however - Bill and Javier are on either side of his head, Javier's hand still stroking his face and twirling strands of his hair. He's embarrassed by how easily it went in, blames it on Arthur's mouth and not his own sudden enthusiasm. He also completely denies to himself that he has his own attempts to compare it to.

 

Just as quickly, though, Arthur's finger is out of him and the man is standing up, shaking his head.

 

"You chickening out, Morgan?" Sean taunts and John hears him take a swing from a bottle right after. "Ain't got it in 'ya even after _all that_?"

 

"I can't do it. I ain't doin' it, Dutch." Arthur's voice raises at the second sentence, both in pitch and volume. But instead of their leader someone else replies. John has to squint to see who it is through the light and it makes him close his legs instinctively.

 

"It's okay, Arthur." Charles' voice is soothing. There's something in it that's not meant for John, or for any of them for that matter - just for Arthur. It's in the way Charles puts both hands on Arthur's wrist, in the way they look at each other, the familiar, _intimate_ way Charles guides him to his knees. "Here." Arthur lets himself be led and John has to look away as Charles puts a hand on Arthur's back, the other one still on his wrist. He feels himself blush deeper at the sudden closeness.

 

Someone's hands guide his legs apart again and he squirms a little, but all is forgotten when Arthur's finger finds its way back inside him. "There you go." Charles' encouraging words are a continuous quiet stream from between his thighs and he can hear Arthur's breathing is becoming more and more uneven. He feels a second finger enter him and it's uncomfortable - Arthur has bigger hands than him, so this is already more than what he's….he wouldn't say _used to,_ more so different than what he's _tried_. But under Charles' careful guidance Arthur's fingers _curl_ and John moans, loudly. He immediately clamps a hand over his mouth, tries to press his knees together, but someone - Sean? - is still holding them.

 

"Mhmm, just like that." Charles murmurs reassuringly. Then, to John, "That good?" John hesitates, then nods slowly. There are sounds threatening to escape his mouth if he removes his hand from it, so he bites his palm instead. He's already made a goddamn fool of himself, best not to make it worse.

 

Arthur fingers him slowly, deliberately, making sure he's stretched good and proper. There's something sticky on his fingers - probably hair pomade - and it feels both disgusting and amazing having them move around inside him. He wants this to continue forever, tries to angle his hips just so so Arthur can rub whatever the fuck that was inside him again, but the other man seems more focused on preparing him for what's to come than on bringing him pleasure.

 

This is a punishment. Right.

 

"Let me." Arthur's hand stills, then pulls back. There's some shuffling and there's a different set of hands on him now, thicker fingers and wider palms. Charles makes short work of getting an index and middle finger inside him, shushing him all the while. They're thicker than Arthur's, _much_ thicker than John's own, but there's no time to process that - Charles' thumb finds his taint and starts rubbing slow circles into it. John's moaning into his hand the instant it starts, toes curling in his boots. What a sight he must be - on his back, legs up in the air, pants still tangled around his ankles. Fuck if he's not enjoying it, though. "You're doing real good."

 

"Don't _praise_ him, now." There goes Dutch, ruining this. "He's already enjoying it more than I would like."

 

"Sure."

 

John had been so distracted by, well, _everything_ until this very second that he'd somehow forgotten how desperately he needs someone to touch his cock.  He almost reaches to do it himself, but he's learned to recognize a threat in Dutch's voice when he hears it. So he clutches the chafed flesh behind his knee tighter instead, continues to occupy his other hand with keeping his damn mouth shut.

 

Charles doesn't stop rubbing his tint, though, nor does he stop curling his fingers in ways that make John's vision swim.

 

"You're _pampering_ him. He's a tough boy, he can take it." Charles _growls_ and the sound makes John's cock throb and twitch upwards. He can feel the precome oozing on his own stomach, mixing with his sweat, as Charles' fingers pull away. "Arthur." Dutch has perfected the art of making any of their names sound like an order, and this time is no different. Charles is talking again, quiet and intimate, just to Arthur.

 

_'It's alright' 'He doesn't blame you'_

 

_'He wants this'_

 

John hasn't screamed in years, not like this. Not when the wolves damn near tore his face of, or when he spent that first night alone after running away when Jack was born. It's good and it burns and it's _huge_ and he swears he's about to die. He opens his eyes and sees Arthur breathing heavily above him, hands on the table on either side of him. Sweat leaks down his forehead from under his hat as he raises his head to look at John. There's concern in his eyes, but also _desire_ and it washes over John as heat and relief and need. 

 

Charles is standing behind Arthur, hand is on his left arm, hips pressed flush against the other man's. He nudges his hips forward and that gets Arthur to finally move. John's eyes screw shut and he groans low in his chest to mimic the sound that rolls out of Arthur. For a few moments it's just them and the feeling of being close and connected and it's amazing. Arthur grips the backs of John's thighs, pushing his legs further up and bending him almost in half. He's so _strong,_ stronger than John ever realized a person can be. Something in him is telling him to be scared but he can't be, not of Arthur, not even now with his ankles on his broad shoulders.

 

"You're doing so well." He overhears Charles' praise and wants to take it believe it's directed towards him, even if he knows it's not.

 

Suddenly, something taps against his knuckles and he struggles to open his eyes. He realizes it's Bill's cock just as Javier pries his hand away from his mouth. It rubs over his lips and he arches towards it, tries to take it in his mouth and feels his neckerchief tighten uncomfortably around his throat from the awkward angle. But he craves it, now, the taste and the feeling of being full, so he opens up and swallows Bill down. The other man moans and Javier chuckles, guiding his own dick into John's now free hand. Jerking another man off is something John's familiar with, even if not quite in this position, but it doesn't matter - his hand knows what it's doing even if he doesn't.

 

He hears Dutch urge Micah to join them and a vague sensation of disgust builds up somewhere in the back of his mind. Just as his other hand gets hesitantly put around Micah's cock, Arthur changes the angle of his hips and tears a moan that any whore would be jealous of out of John. There's no hiding it, no use in feeling ashamed, even if he does. They're all doing this _together,_ as a family, as Dutch would probably put it. He sure as Hell ain't the only one enjoying himself. Arthur is moaning above him, hips stuttering and dick throbbing inside John in ways he won't soon forget. It vaguely sounds like he's calling someone else's name when Charles reaches between his legs to fondle his balls; John's sure nobody else has noticed - he only knows because he can feel Charles' fingers brush against his ass whenever Arthur pushes inside him.

 

It's good and awful and he's going to die right there on that damned table stroking his friends, his _brothers_ off with a cock rearranging his guts.

 

"On his face." It's Dutch again. Easy to forget he's there, watching, making decisions for all of them, until he speaks. He has a good eye for approaching orgasm, apparently, because as soon as he's said the word Bill pulls out and comes messily on John's lips.

 

"Fuck, Marston." Bill's voice sounds is shakier than he's ever heard it, and it fills him with an odd sense of pride.

 

"Don't forget about us, Marston." Micah thrusts into his hand. Javier mimics him.

 

"Your hands're real skilled, huh?"

 

"Mh..mhm" Is all John manages to say before getting back to work. It's difficult to focus with the way Arthur's fucking him, but it's _good_. He might be into men after all.

 

When he looks down at Arthur, he sees Charles behind him on the left and Dutch to his right. They're both talking to him, whispering in his ears and Dutch's trying to be subtle when he bites it but Arthur _moans_ when he does and it reverberates through John, comes out of his own mouth. Dutch looks down at him and when their eyes meet John starts working harder with his hands, bucks his hips as much as he can with Arthur leaning his entire upper body weight on his legs.

 

"I…I ain't gonna last much longer." Arthur's breathless, voice deep and sticky, thrusts erratic.

 

"Come, then."

 

Too much happens at once Dutch has spoken. Arthur's grip on his thighs tightens, becomes bruising. They groan almost in unison as John's abdomen clenches. He feels Arthur drive into him harder, deeper than before, and spills inside him, hands shaking. John's bent so far on himself that his own come hits his chest and neck. Seed spills on his face from both sides as Javier lets out a sigh and Micah makes some disgusted, disgusting sound. It's all too much and John can't seem to be able to catch his breath, but it's the best he's felt…well, probably ever, even if his back and legs and jaw are sore as Hell. Despite this, he's relieved it's over when Arthur slides out of him.

 

"Oh, don't relax quite yet, son. I ain't _done_ with you." That _something_ must be written on Dutch's face, because everyone steps back from John. He opens his eyes to see what's going on just as Arthur sets his legs down carefully. "Bring'im here." Arthur helps him to his feet and then walks him over to where Dutch is sitting in the chair in front of his tent, patting his thigh with one hand.

 

_Oh._

 

John's legs are shaking as he awkwardly trips in his own jeans on the way. He feels a bit of Arthur's come spill down his thigh and hopes no one notices. He feels like a girl being paraded around at an auction. Or, more accurately given how his cock is swinging between his legs - a slut being shamed in the town square.

 

When they finally close the distance to the chair there are a few moments of awkward silence during which Dutch is looking him up and down and Arthur's holding his arm almost protectively. Dutch tilts his chin up expectantly and Arthur spins John around, sits him down on Dutch's cock facing the camp. It's not as big as Arthurs (is _anyone's?_ ) and it slides in easily. John gasps when he sits fully in Dutch's lap, overly sensitive and overfucked but his cock seems interested enough. Dutch leans into him, puts a hand on his chest, under his shirt. He doesn't seem to care about the come that's dirtying his fingers there.

 

_"Ride me."_

 

To his horror, everyone who was previously occupied with him is still there, apparently not willing to miss out on the show. _Figures,_ he thinks, _Dutch likes an audience._

 

He gets an encouraging buck from Dutch and shit, he ain't bigger, but he hits his prostate on the first try. John moans, tries to double over, but the hand on his chest is stopping him, pushing him back so he's flush with Dutch's chest. He does as he's told, then, and starts moving up and down. It's not like riding a horse and his thighs are burning, but it feels _good._ He can't get hard again, even if he wants to, and he feels his dick flopping uselessly between his legs while Dutch takes his pleasure.

 

"You ain't gonna do that again, will you, boy?" The voice in his ear makes his breath hitch. His vision is swimming but he can still see the others approach, can feel them watching him. "Ain't gonna go getting yourself caught again? What if it was the Pinkertons that got you?" He thrusts into him to accentuate every few words. It’s almost too much, but it's _good_. Dutch's voice drops and he leans in closer to whisper right into his ear. "You had me worried sick, son,  and I wanna…I _want to_ make sure you don't get yourself killed. Make sure you remember to _stay safe._ " His hand moves towards John's face and two fingers slip into his mouth. Dutch is making him taste his own come and he's sure he'd hate it under any other circumstances, but now….now it's different. Now, Dutch is doing this _for_ him, not _to_ him. He slides his fingers out of John's mouth and holds his jaw. "Say it."

 

"N-no, Dutch, I…I ain't…gonna…"

 

Arthur's looking away, clenching his fists at his sides, but his presence is enough to reassure John that this is fine. Somehow, he truly believes it is. Or wants to, at least. So the words come easy, almost naturally.

 

"Sorry, Dutch."

 

"Good."

 

It doesn't take long for him to come after that; the only sound Dutch makes is a low grunt, half buried in John's shoulder. He thought he was full before, but with Dutch's seed mixing with Arthur's he feels like he can taste them both at the back of his throat. Dutch pushes him forward when he's done and John slips off of his cock, stumbles forward until he falls on his hands and knees. Dutch stands behind him and helps him up, still a little flushed but otherwise stoic as ever.

 

"Gentlemen," he says, still holding John by the arm. He tries to pull his shirt down, looks to the side, his shame finally catching up to him. "let this be a lesson learned for all of us today. And let it remind us that we _take care_ of each other, for better or worse." And with that he spins on his heel, evidently itching for a cigarette. The others take this as their que to do the same, each going their separate ways. At least he knows none of them are going to bring it up again.

 

Hopefully.

 

"C'mon," Arthur's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "we gotta get you cleaned up 'fore the girls come back or Abigail's gonna kill us all." John doesn't say anything, just lets himself be led to Arthur's tent. He lets himself be cleaned up, too, and for a moment it feels like it's ten years ago and he's just found a home.

 

It could've been worse, he decides, when Arthur buckles his belt and hands him a newly lit cigarette. They sit on his cot for a time, still sweaty and quiet in the midday sun. Life at camp has already returned to its usual rounds - people doing chores, Javier kicking Pearson awake so he can check on the stew, Bill taking a nap with his feet on the same table John had been lying on a few minutes prior. And John…John doesn't feel empty for the first time in  _long_ time.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh yeah so. This took way too long to write. 
> 
> In case you're wondering: 
> 
> >Pearson & Swanson slept through this  
> >Sean passed out before the main event  
> >Kieran saw this is happening and is traumatized


End file.
